


Last Night in Denerim

by DirtyanonsofThedas



Series: Submission Story Prompts [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyanonsofThedas/pseuds/DirtyanonsofThedas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A prompt submitted to us by ExhaustedApostate. Written by Mous.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Last Night in Denerim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustinCOMS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustinCOMS/gifts).



> A prompt submitted to us by ExhaustedApostate. Written by Mous.

“Is it more important for me to be a good person, or to be thought of as a good person? We all have our demons lurking in the back of our mind, or hiding in the darkest corners of the Fade. I was supposed to protect people from those demons but their desire to be something monstrous overwhelmed them. It always will.” Cullen rubbed at the rim of his cup. The last remaining drops of the wine had been long gone, but he kept sipping it, hoping that something would be left at the bottom.

 

By this time, most of the men at the bar had already gone into the private rooms with women, men or anything else the Pearl had to offer. Cullen kept meaning to slap down a few coins and just go for it, but something held him back. He sometimes thought himself as defective, the way he couldn’t just approach a woman like all these other men could; even the women that got paid to be approached couldn’t stop him from hesitating.

 

Cullen lifted his hand up to signal for another drink. As the wine splashed into his glass, one of the side doors slammed opened, allowing a pollution of chatter and bottles clanging together as a group of women and a… man stepped out into the show room. At least, he thought it was a man. Cullen could barely make out the male looking tunic under the flowing silk dress. The elf picked the small flowers out of his hair and struggled as the women tried to pull him back into the room. His laughter rose over theirs as he slipped out of the dress, allowing them to fall backwards as they clutched onto the silk material.

 

In their confusion, the blonde haired elf slipped on the other side of Cullen and quickly signaled for a drink. After a few sips of his drink, with Cullen carefully studying every drop that touched his lips- wondering if he could absorb some of the power the elf had over women- the elf slid his eyes over to meet the Templar’s. Cullen quickly looked away and resumed gingerly sipping his own drink. The elf rested his arms on the counter and leaned forward, pushing his head into Cullen’s view. “I know you,” the elf smiled as his eyes caught Cullen’s. The Templar couldn’t look away, the pull of the elf’s gaze was too strong. Something in his eyes just screamed at him to move close, but Cullen resisted as much as he could.

 

Instead, Cullen cleared his throat, trying to make his voice as clear as possible but all that came out was a whisper, “You were with Amell- uh- the Warden. I remember you at the ceremony. I believe they introduced you as Zevran Arainey.”

 

Zevran slid back and leaned against the back of his chair, laughing. “It’s Arainai, but close enough.” Zevran took a few final gulps of his wine before hoping off the chair. “I better be going,” he said as he turned his back to the Templar. 

 

Cullen found himself off the chair within seconds, reaching out to the elf. “Wai-,” he tried to get out before falling over his own feet. The affects of the alcohol hit him hard when he initially decided to get off the chair. 

 

Zevran turned on his heel and walked towards the fallen Templar, his feet stopping at his head. “Yes?”

 

Cullen rolled himself onto his back, looking up at the elf’s perfectly curved chin and the tattoos that accented his cheek bones. He could have said a clever line, he could have said something that had made the elf blush or even asked for him to help him up- but instead all that came out was a half giggled, “I can see up your nose.”

 

Zevran sighed and walked around to the front of Cullen. He grasped the Templar’s forearm and helped to pull him up as well as steady him. Cullen swayed a bit, even under the elf’s hands on his arms. Zevran shifted his hands to the Templar’s shoulders, grasping them firmly, but not to hurt him. Cullen felt secure under the rogue’s care- which was odd in itself since he barely knew the man. 

 

Zevran looked over at the bartender. “I think we need to rent one of the rooms here for private use. It seems like my friend can not stand up by himself, let alone get home.” The bartender nodded and handed the elf a brass key. She waved away the normal fees, as Zevran was one of their preferred customers. The elf bowed as much as he could while holding up the Templar’s weight before dragging him through the hallway to the room he requested.

 

He struggled to put the key in the lock as the Templar began to put more of his weight on him. Zevran froze as Cullen dug himself into his neck, his hot breath spreading over his skin and making his arms burst with goose bumps. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow as he resisted the urge to take the drunken Templar in the hall. A sigh of relief and angst escaped him as he finally unlocked the door and got it open.

 

“Come on now,” Zevran groaned as he dragged Cullen the remaining distance to the four poster bed. It looked surprisingly clean for a whore house, but that was Denerim for you. Regulations everywhere. You couldn’t even dump a chamber pot without going through at least ten regulated procedures. 

 

Cullen grunted as his back hit the bed, his eyes opening slightly to view his surroundings. “This isn’t the Tower, is it?” He asked, craning his head to the elf that was removing his boots.

 

“No.” Zevran replied simply, as he was sympathetic to the state that the Templar found himself in.

 

“Good,” Cullen let his head fall back on the pillow, both relieved and saddened by the fact that he didn’t dream being kicked out of the Circle Tower. 

 

Zevran patted his leg and sat on the side of the bed. “You were very determined to keep me here, no?”

 

Cullen closed his lids again, liking the feeling of not knowing where he was or what was going on. “I was. I just couldn’t figure it out.”

 

Zevran began to remove his own boots, “Well, I‘ll let you search me for any answers you might want. I‘ll even throw in some deeper searching for free.”

 

The Templar brought his hand up and began to gently rub his eyes. “How you can do all…,” his other hand waved dramatically in the air, “this. I just don’t understand why I’m so defective while you can get hoards of women with a smile.”

 

Zevran lined his boots up next to the bed neatly before swinging his legs over. He repositioned a pillow to support his back against the hard backboard. “The smile helps, but that isn’t all there is to it.”

 

Cullen scoffed and shifted his position to give the elf more room and so he wouldn’t be hanging off the side of it. “I’ve heard the stories, Zevran. Women and men kissing the ground you walk on, even as you killed them.”

 

Zevran shrugged, “many stories are altered to their listeners. I have had many… acquaintances, sure, but it takes a little more in some cases to get my prey. You have to have confidence.” His hand cut through the air as he explained what the other was lacking. “A stride that says you don’t care about what the other’s think. This is your life, and who says you have to live by everyone else’s rules?”

 

 Cullen opened his eyes to look at the elf. Zevran‘s outline was illuminated by the single candle in the room. “I took an oath. I swore to protect people, and I failed. You know that. You were there. I was locked away in a cage while everyone around me was slaughtered or turned into those creatures. How can I be proud of myself after that? How can I not trust in the rules that were in place after that?”

 

Cullen flinched as Zevran reached out and stroked his face. “Has anyone told you that you need to shut up once in a while and just enjoy the moment? As I can tell, this is both our last nights in Ferelden by how you are speaking. Let‘s not remember it by just the depressing conversation.”

 

Cullen fumbled as he attempted to speak, but found that all ability to had ceased as Zevran’s lips crashed against his. There was no reason to it, no one telling him it needed to be done. No one’s life was at stake and he was breaking a thousand rules just being in this bed, but at that moment- whether it was the alcohol or the alluring elf- Cullen didn’t care about any of that. This was his last night in the place he called his home since he was born, and for once in his life he was going to live.

 

The Templar dug his hands into the blonde elf’s hair, pulling him on top of him. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew it felt right. He jumped a bit as a warm hand ran up his tunic. Zevran pulled back, a gleam in his eyes that Cullen had never seen in anyone before as he pulled Cullen up to tug the tunic off of him. It flew over Zevran’s shoulder and he removed his own. 

 

The elf pushed the Templar back down on the bed and let out a small whimper as their chests touched. Cullen tugged on Zevran’s hair and ran his hands down the slim elf’s back as Zevran swiveled his hips against him. Cullen felt his hips pushing up against Zevran’s in retaliation. Not knowing if this was the right thing to do, he looked to the elf’s face for signs of disgust. But all he was met with was the elf opening his mouth slightly, his eyelids fluttering and his breathing becoming harder.

 

Curious to see where this was going, Cullen did it again with more force. Zevran responded with a small growl as his head dived to the Templar’s neck and bit down. Cullen was shocked by the sudden pain, but after the initial bite, the elf’s teeth backed off and became gentle nicks and licks from his neck to his collarbone. After a few moments Zevran pulled back, straddling Cullen and giving him a quizzical look. “This is your first time, isn’t it?”

 

Cullen looked away, ashamed as his cheeks burned from more than the alcohol. “Yes… I never really- I mean- I never got the… the ah…”

 

Zevran cupped his cheek and leaned in close. “It’s okay. I like a challenge,” he whispered against his lips before capturing them once again. Cullen moaned as Zevran slipped his tongue between his lips and used it to capture his. As Zevran began to descend on Cullen, he sucked on his tongue, giving him a hint of where he was going before releasing contact.

 

The elf wiggled his way down with Cullen lifting an eyebrow. “What are you-” was all Cullen got out before Zevran placed his hand on the Templar’s arousal.

 

“This is a give and take thing.” Zevran smiled as he placed a kiss on the cloth before tugging at the trousers. With the skills of someone who had been in many beds before, Zevran removed the Templar’s trousers with no effort. And, to Cullen’s surprise, his underclothes went with them.

 

Cullen’s nerves caused his to grip the sheets as Zevran licked a trail from his stomach to his pelvis. He let out a sharp breath as the elf’s lips landed on his tip. Zevran’s hair spilled around him as the elf slowly licked and suckled his length. Cullen bit into his cheek, trying not to allow himself to release to this small stimuli. But it was getting too difficult to hold in. His hips wanted to buck in the same motion as Zevran moved his head. His body wanted to release all those years of tension in one single flow, but he wouldn’t let himself. 

 

Suddenly, all the sensations stopped. There was no tongue swirling around his arousal, no fine hair tickling his skin and no threat of releasing in the elf’s mouth. The only thing Cullen felt was the bed shifting and the rustling of cloth. “Zev-”

 

“Shhh.” Zevran came back on to the bed after removing the rest of his clothing and holding a small container in his hand. He pushed Cullen’s legs apart. “Lift your bottom up.” Cullen nodded and lifted up. As he did so, he felt a pillow slide under him. “It will help so you don’t get so tired.” Zevran’s hand slid up to Cullen’s thighs. “This will hurt at first, but I’ll go slow to try and ease it. Understand?”

 

Cullen nodded and braced himself but was met with a ‘tsk’ from the elf. “Don’t do that. It will hurt more that way. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

 

Cullen breathed out deeply and gave another nod. He watched as Zevran opened the container and dipped his finger inside. Zevran slid the salve coated finger down to Cullen’s entrance. Soon after, Cullen winced as something began to slip its way inside of him. His face twisted and he clenched the blankets harder, trying to work his way past the pain. Zevran saw the look on Cullen’s face and stopped. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue against his lips before biting gently on Cullen’s lower lip. Cullen became entranced with the elf’s soft lips upon his and allowed himself to be taken away from the sensation of Zevran’s finger swirling inside of him.

 

Cullen’s breath shuddered with the break from the pain. The elf looked down at him, waiting for an answer to an unasked question. With a nod, Zevran pushed another finger within him. He slowly began spreading his fingers to loosen the Templar with the aid of the salve. Zevran inched his hips forward and began with withdraw his fingers to replace them with his length. The tip of him slid within the Templar with resistance at first, but after a few attempts, Zevran fully immersed himself with the other man. Cullen brought the blanket to his mouth and bit into it, cutting Zevran off from any reassuring kisses. Tears began forming and a few managed to stream down to the other pillow beneath Cullen’s head. No. I want this. I have to be strong. With a few deep breaths, Cullen released the blanket from his mouth and drew his attention to the man poised above him.

 

Zevran smirked as the man beneath him regained his confidence. Cullen unclenched his hands from the blankets and moved them to the elf’s muscled back. Taking this as a signal to continue, Zevran paced himself as he moved within the Templar. It was hard to restrain the normal desire the Rogue had to ravage his bedmates, but he knew that if he pressed it too much, he would hurt the man he was trying to please. 

 

Cullen’s breathing began to match the rhythm Zevran was trying to keep as he descended into utter bliss. The pace increased and the pain eased away with every stroke, every kiss laid upon him and every subtle touch to his own arousal.

 

Finally, Cullen arched and moaned as he came close to finishing and Zevran, knowing the signs of a man coming so close to release, sat up a little more so he could have reach. He grasped Cullen’s length and stroked it with his own rhythm. Cullen couldn’t hold back any longer and allowed his fluid to flow out of himself and over the elf’s hand. After a few more strokes, he was empty and close to drifting off with Zevran still inside him. Still moving until he found his release as well.

 

Zevran began to slide out of Cullen until he was stopped by a tired, husky voice. “Don’t. Just… stay. For a little while.”

 

“Can’t get enough?” Zevran laughed and complied, allowing himself to stay in place as he removed the pillow, laying on the Templar’s chest.

 

“I just don’t know when I’ll ever have this feeling again,” Cullen said absently as he stroked the elf’s hair.

 

“Keep yourself open, and it shall come again.”

 

 

 

 

That was seven years ago. I had heard rumors about an ex-Antivan Crow killing off the leaders of his old faction, and I had a small hope that it was the same one that I had met all that time ago. It wasn’t until the Champion had saved an elf from a man named Nuncio that I knew it was my Zevran. Earlier this very night he had been spotted near the Hanged Man. Normally, I never leave the Gallows… but this was an exception. I was going to find him and, hopefully, begin to live again.

 


End file.
